


Give Me Wings

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Series: If I'm Falling [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek’s Still Broken, Kate was Evil, M/M, Nonconsensual Drug Use (sedatives), PTSD, Panic Attack, The Sheriff Just Wants To Help—But He Does It Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is still following the Sheriff like a lost puppy, but this might be the end. Certainly it's an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Summary sucks, sorry.
> 
> Read the tags, heed any warnings.
> 
> Spoilers through Season 4.
> 
> Unbetaed, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Apologies for any medical mistakes.

~ * ~

“Drink this,” the Sheriff says, handing Derek a small, blue ceramic mug. The steam curling from the top makes him wary, and he shoots the Sheriff a questioning glance. The Sheriff ignores him, settling back against the headboard and picking up his book again.

Derek takes a small sip, wincing as the heat rushes down his throat, swirling in his stomach. He shudders at the sensation.

“I don’t like it,” he says, smacking his lips at the bitter aftertaste. The Sheriff glares at him over the top of his glasses.

“All of it, Derek,” he responds, sternly. Derek tries another small sip and almost spits it out again. It’s completely bitter and he’s not certain what it is supposed to taste like.

“I’m not drinking it,” he decides, and leans forward to set the mug on the bedside table. When he pulls back, he catches the Sheriff smiling at him, and his stomach drops. “What was in it?” he says, trying to swallow with a suddenly dry mouth. His head starts pounding and the lights flare sharply. He’s aware of his pupils dilating, trying to open more, as if the lights are dim when they’re still bright. “What did you do to me?” He can hear his words slurring and he starts panicking, breath whistling harshly as his heartbeat rattles in his chest.

“It’s a mild sedative. Braeden mentioned you weren’t feeling yourself lately. I’ve decided to see what I can do to help you.”

This is not the supernatural-exists-and-is-upsetting-to-me Sheriff, Derek thinks. This is his evil twin. He  _knows_  how Derek hates to be incapacitated. He knows this because Derek told him last week. Why he would decide to use it against Derek is beyond him.

He surges off the bed, landing in a tangle of limbs and blankets, air whooshing from him with the muted thump. The Sheriff chuckles darkly.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, and oh, yes, he will. He’s already started. Derek whimpers, fumbling a shaking hand into his pocket, trying to find his phone. Too late, he remembers the Sheriff taking it when he led him to the bed almost an hour ago.

It’s locked in the bedside table, with the Sheriff’s gun. Small mercies, Derek thinks.

The Sheriff drags him back onto the bed, and Derek wonders where his strength went. He only had two small sips. Two!

As if he can read his mind, the Sheriff laughs that dark laugh again and says, “It was all sedative, Derek. It doesn’t matter that you only got a small dose. A small dose was still plenty. In fact, if you had drank all of it, I’ve no doubt I’d be trying to get you to vomit before your body absorbed too much.”

Derek whimpers again. He’s going numb. He can feel his toes and fingers dropping off. His head spins, and even his heartbeat doesn’t seem so bad though he knows it’s still racing.

“Shh,” the Sheriff soothes, and that damn mug nudges at Derek’s lips while the Sheriff’s other hand goes to tilt his head. “Just a bit more. Just enough to completely knock you out. Trust me, I won’t hurt you.”

He doesn’t open his mouth, and the Sheriff glowers for a moment. “Fine,” he sighs, letting Derek’s head drop back to the bed. “We’ll do this another way.” He reaches under the pillows and pulls out an empty syringe. Derek winces and whines. The Sheriff just shakes his head, drawing a careful dose straight from the mug before depositing it back on the table. He flicks the cartridge to disperse any bubbles and then grabs Derek’s arm, slapping at the crook of his elbow to raise a vein.

Derek can’t feel it. Not even when the Sheriff slides the needle in, depressing the plunger and rubbing the injection site afterwards.

Almost immediately, Derek’s eyes slip closed. He’d be more worried, but his mind’s gone terrifyingly blank, a buzzing sound rounding off the edges as the room goes dark and he passes out.

When awareness slams into him, Derek shoots upwards. Well, he would have if his entire body wasn’t still numb and unfeeling.

He’s lost his shirt and pants although the Sheriff has allowed him to keep his boxers, which he only notices when he tries moving—and oh, that’s a weird sensation to know he’s moving, slowly, towards the foot of the bed but unable to  _feel_  it.

He encounters a thick pillow, the same one that hid the syringe, he thinks. He curls around it, rests his chin over his arms with the edge of the pillow in between them. The Sheriff huffs a fond-sounding sigh and suddenly a hand cards through his hair. He shivers but holds still.

“This is okay,” the Sheriff says softly, running his hand over Derek’s hair again. He tugs at the growing strands, wrapping them around his fingers and bobbing Derek’s head with the movement.

Derek hums quietly, just letting him touch him. He doesn’t feel much of anything right now, still numbed from the sedative. Another hand trails over his back, and the only reason he knows this is because the Sheriff follows it with his mouth, licking at the muscles. Derek tenses. Why can he feel tongue but not fingers?

“This is okay,” the Sheriff repeats, but he doesn’t sound as sure, and he pauses at the base of Derek’s spine.

“‘s not ‘kay,” Derek manages to whisper, blinking at the sudden tears that well his eyes. He wants off the bed; he wants the Sheriff off him. But, the older man sits back on his heels, hand skimming over Derek’s buttocks and cradling the back of one knee. Derek wants to kick him.

He whines, high in his throat, and tries to roll over. He manages a half turn before the Sheriff shoves him back onto his front. He doesn’t move again, and Derek knows he’s watching him, maybe with kindness, maybe with disgust.

He did promise not to hurt him.

Derek whines again, biting down on the pillow and trying to stifle a sob. He wants away from here desperately, but he’s not sure the Sheriff will let him go. He’s been getting steadily more possessive of Derek’s time, and he doesn’t know how to say no.

“Derek,” the Sheriff sighs, hand running over Derek’s knee again on its way back up his body. “Derek, tell me you want this. Please.”

Derek shakes his head. He doesn’t trust himself not to start crying if he tries talking. The Sheriff sighs again and the bed dips and springs up when he climbs off. “Sleep, kiddo,” he says. Derek manages to turn his head and finds the Sheriff shrugging his shirt back on. He catches Derek looking and grins, but there is a sadness lurking in his eyes.

“Sleep,” he says again, leaning down to press a closed-mouth kiss to Derek’s forehead.

“‘m sorry,” Derek mumbles around his mouthful of pillow. He isn’t, not really. The Sheriff seems to know this, and he claps a hand on Derek’s back, ignoring the way he flinches at the contact.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

Derek knows he’s not getting out of this. Not unless Braeden or Stiles or  _someone_  comes to rescue him. But, who’d believe Derek needs saving?

Especially from the Sheriff?

~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the Sheriff is OOC here. He's trying to help Derek by relaxing him (with a sedative which only works because at this point in the timeline, Derek is losing his powers, i.e.: becoming human) to show that he can trust people even if he doesn't know their motivation.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to let me know if something bothers you or needs more tags.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
